The Ghosts of the Past
by Dalnim
Summary: Sometime after Sherlock came back from the dead John wakes up to find Sherlock acting completely out of character – friendly, polite, has manners and able to make not only tea but breakfast as well! John is totally freaked out by the change - what's wrong with Sherlock?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Here's something I found from my computer and decided to finish. This story is not related to my other Sherlock fics.**

 **Summary: Sometime after Sherlock came back from the dead John wakes up to find Sherlock acting completely out of character – friendly, polite, has manners and able to make not only tea but breakfast as well! John is totally freaked out by the change - what's wrong with Sherlock?**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes**

* * *

John Watson groaned and buried his face into the pillow as his alarm clock beeped alerting him that it was time to wake up. He felt like he had slept only few hours and probably had too, since his _lovely_ flatmate Sherlock "I-don't-need-sleep" Holmes had decided to give him a violin concerto at 3-bloody-am – well, if screeching the violin could be called a concerto. And now John had to get up at 6am and be in the surgery in less than an hour.

Turning off the alarm he dressed and shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen, still half asleep. Tea – tea was what he needed and luckily for him he had made it so many times that he didn't have to even think about it anymore. He knew where everything was and could do it with his eyes closed if needed – which was a good thing on mornings like this. Except this time, as he entered the kitchen, nothing was where it was supposed to be – especially Sherlock.

On normal mornings John would wake up to find the kitchen empty and Sherlock lying on the living room couch in his mind palace or playing the violin or working on some experiment. There would never be tea or breakfast ready for him when he woke up – that was John's job as Sherlock more often than not forgot to eat and John was pretty sure he didn't even know how to cook. But this morning as John entered the kitchen he was assaulted by the smell of eggs and bacon as well as _tea._

John stared at the scene in shock and rubbed his eyes thinking he must still be asleep. There was no way that _Sherlock_ was sitting on their _clean_ kitchen table eating what seemed to be the traditional English breakfast and drinking tea.

Suddenly he looked up and gave John a wide smile.

"Good morning, John! Come sit down, please, I made breakfast." He said cheerfully and John gaped at him. It did look like Sherlock, the overly tight purple shirt and all, and sounded like him too, but he _couldn't_ possibly be Sherlock. Sherlock wasn't _cheerful_ or _polite_ and John was pretty sure he had deleted the word 'please' from his vocabulary. No, Sherlock was rude and moody and childish and didn't much care about anything other than his cases and experiments. And he would _never_ have made John breakfast.

Shaking his head John sat down still staring at Sherlock.

" _You_ made breakfast?" He asked as _Sherlock_ handed him a cup of tea just the way he liked it. "Is this one of your experiments again?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, isn't that what I just said?" Sherlock said frowning at him concernedly. "And no it's not an experiment. Are you feeling okay, John?"

John shook his head in disbelief.

"Okay, who the hell are you and what have you done to Sherlock Holmes?"

"John? What are you talking about? I'm obviously me."

He was looking at him concernedly again and John felt like banging his head to the table. He was way too tired for this.

"Tell me something only Sherlock and I would know."

"What are you on about John? This is idiotic." Aha, there was the Sherlock scowl, but it wasn't enough to convince John entirely.

"Just tell me."

"Fine." He huffed in a very Sherlockian way. "You shot the cabbie for me."

John nodded slowly. No one apart from them knew that, except for Mycroft perhaps and it had to do for now. He didn't have time to deal with this now, but he would keep an eye on his out-of-character-acting flatmate.

The rest of the breakfast – which was impressively good – was eaten in silence expect for Sherlock's few requests like "Pass me the salt, please", which made John immediately narrow his eyes.

"Just leave them; I'll take care of it." Sherlock said smiling after John had eaten and about to start cleaning up.

"Okay enough Sherlock." John said exasperated. "This is seriously starting to creep me out."

"John?" Sherlock looked at him confused. "What are you talking about?"

"You, Sherlock! You! You acting like – _this._ " John exclaimed and waved a hand around the room.

"Like what?" Sherlock asked and there was the concern again.

"Gah! Just – nothing. Nothing at all. I'm going to take a shower." John said feeling even more tired than when he first woke up. He didn't have time to try to figure out Sherlock's latest experiment – because that was what this _had_ to be – he had to get to work.

John exited the kitchen and went to take a shower hoping it would relax him a bit, which it did and John felt much better as he left the bathroom and re-entered the kitchen dressed up ready to work. The kitchen had been cleaned and everything was back in their right places, but Sherlock was nowhere in sight.

Sighing John picked up his keys and put on his coat, ready to leave when Sherlock burst through the door his long coat billowing after him.

"John! John! We have a case!" He shouted grinning and John felt relieved – this was the Sherlock he knew. "There you are John. Good you're dressed already, we have a case!" He exclaimed and clapped his hand before pushing John out of the door to the street.

"That's all well and good, Sherlock but I need to go to work."

"Work… Work is dull." Sherlock scoffed. "This is much more interesting John. We have a serial killer!"

Well that explained why he was so giddy about the case, John mused. He debated with himself for a second whether or not to call in sick and follow Sherlock to the crime scene, but like always his soldier side won.

"Fine, I'll call in sick, but only if you promise to tell me what that little experiment of yours earlier was about." He said digging up his phone.

"Why would you want to know?" Sherlock frowned for a second. "Never mind, whatever. The game Dr Watson is on!"

* * *

The next morning John woke up to find the kitchen table full of Sherlock's experiments and Sherlock having already solved the case, lying on the couch demanding John to make him tea. He smiled, oddly relieved, as his Sherlock was back. It had most likely been another one of Sherlock's experiments that John just didn't understand and he was happy to leave it just that. John didn't think he could deal with a polite Sherlock – that just wasn't him, it didn't feel right.

For two years he had been hoping for his Sherlock to come back from the dead and he had gotten his wish. Of course he had been angry at Sherlock and punched him a few times too, but really he couldn't be happier. He had missed his crazy, brilliant consulting detective and was beyond happy to have him back even with the experiments and all. So to have Sherlock change so drastically would be unnerving and… well, it wouldn't be the same.

And so, John proceeded to make them breakfast, gladly putting the weirdness of the morning before out of his mind and as the evening came he had all but forgotten about the incident until the evening came. John was just about to leave the clinic and head home when his phone beeped alerting him of the arrival of a text message. He dug the phone out of his pocket thinking that it was most likely to be Sherlock demanding that he come to some crime scene as he had earlier received a message from him saying that they had another case.

And Sherlock it was, but instead of a case the text contained only one word:

 _Angelo's._

 _-SH_

John raised his eyebrows wondering why Sherlock wanted him to meet him at Angelo's when he was in the middle of a case. Shrugging he hailed a cab and headed to the restaurant.

John searched for Sherlock as he entered the restaurant and saw him _waving_ at him from their usual table. Frowning he walked to the table and sat down opposite of his flatmate.

"Sherlock, what are we doing here?"

"Eating, John. This is a restaurant after all."

"You solved the case, already?" John asked with raised eyebrows.

"No."

"No?"

"That's what I just said. Do try to keep up, John." Sherlock scoffed still studying his menu.

"Sherlock, you never eat while you're on a case." John said.

"Well I eat now. You should be happy – always bugging me to eat."

"Fine." John said and opened his own menu while every once in a while glancing at his flatmate waiting for him to do something out of character. For the most part he acted normal, but there were some things that stood out. For example Sherlock thanked Angelo for the food as it was brought to the table and _actually_ ate it. Furthermore he _asked_ John about his day and John couldn't detect any mocking or sarcasm in the question – it was truly sincere.

By the time the dinner was over John was ready for a drink. He was totally freaked out by this polite and caring Sherlock – the man had helped a lost child to find her mother and done it even politely and pleasantly for Christ's sake! – So he had messaged Lestrade and was meeting him at the pub for a pint.

"John." Lestrade greeted him.

"Hello Greg." John said.

"Missed you at the crime scene today. Sherlock was a right pain in the arse and dashed off again without a word." Lestrade said tired as he sipped up his beer.

"He was?" John asked surprised. Apparently hid flatmate's 'kindness' didn't apply to crime scenes.

"You bet. Managed to make the witness cry and Donavan was this close to punching him at one point." Lestrade sighed. "He really is much worse when you're not there keeping him in check."

"So you haven't noticed him acting in… an unusual manner?" John asked.

"Well, if you're talking about being even more of a bastard than usual then no. Why?"

"It's just he's been acting really weird these past few days."

"Weird how?" Lestrade frowned.

And John proceeded to tell him all his observations of Sherlock's odd behaviour. Lestrade found it hard to believe but promised John to keep an eye out for him and they parted ways, John feeling much better at having someone to talk about it.

His good feeling however went right out of the window as he arrived back at Baker Street and found that Sherlock had stopped at the Tesco and shopped groceries and even brought _milk_!

* * *

These incidents, where one moment Sherlock acted like… well _Sherlock,_ but the next like he was the epitome of kindness and politeness, kept happening during the next week and John was in turns either irritated, freaked out or downright worried. His mind went through different kinds of scenarios of how or why Sherlock would be acting like he had and he became increasingly anxious about it.

Talking to Sherlock helped nothing as the man acted like nothing was out of the ordinary and worst of all John didn't think he was faking it. He liked to think that he knew when Sherlock was lying – he had these small mannerisms that gave him away, but only for John (and maybe Mycroft) as he had spent enough time with Sherlock to get to know him properly. So the only thing he was left with was his medical knowledge and the things he could come up with were borderline terrifying.

Then one evening a thought entered his head and refused to leave him alone. It was so simple that John felt like an idiot coming up with all kinds of theories including DID, partial amnesia etc. It was so simple! What if Sherlock was high? It was entirely plausible; Sherlock had a history of drug use after all.

And then when his suspicion thoroughly settled in, John was horrified. What if he really was taking drugs? Drugs could make people turn into somebody totally different and it certainly would explain Sherlock's behaviour.

But why would he, after being sober for so long? Was it the Fall? Sherlock had never told John what he had gone through during the years of his absence, but John had heard his nightmares after he returned. What if it had been so bad that Sherlock was turning to drugs again?

He couldn't let Sherlock destroy himself like that. He would help Sherlock get through rehab. He would make him talk about what he had gone through. He wouldn't lose his best friend to something like that. Not after just getting him back.

Making up his mind John stood up and walked to the kitchen where Sherlock was doing his experiments.

"Come here for a second, Sherlock." John said pacing a little in the sitting room. Sherlock did as asked looking at him curiously.

"Yes John, what is it?" He asked smiling kindly and John rubbed his head anxiously, before deciding there was no easy way to go about this.

"Sherlock, are you high?" He blurted out and Sherlock looked at him stunned like he couldn't believe what John had just asked him.

"Sorry, what?" The consulting detective asked like he had no idea what John was talking about and John lost it. He grabbed Sherlock by his head and made him look at him.

"I asked you: _Are you high_?" He said strongly. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you're not taking drugs again." He demanded but Sherlock just looked shocked his eyes wide and mouth hanging slightly open – a very unsherlockian expression.

"Damnit Sherlock!" John cried out letting go of the detective and stepping away from him. "I'm running out of ideas here, so unless you have suddenly developed a multiple personality disorder, then the only thing I can think of is drugs. Just _please_ tell me so we can get you help." John pleaded. "Please Sherlock, we will get through this together, you just need to tell me."

Sherlock opened his mouth clearly trying to say something, but was interrupted by a voice from the door.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! Please review and tell me what you think.**

 **\- Dalnim**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for reviews! Very interesting theories and there was the correct one too, congratulations _Ma13_. Anyways, this fic was supposed to be a very light and humorous one, but for some reason I seem to be incapable of writing one and this is the result. Still I hope you guys like this!**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock Holmes**

* * *

"What are _you_ doing here?" An icy voice demanded from the door and John turned to see – _Sherlock_ standing in the doorway looking at the other Sherlock with cold eyes.

"William." The other Sherlock breathed sounding at the same time vary and relieved.

"What the bloody hell?" John muttered looking from Sherlock? to Sherlock? thinking _he_ must be drugged or going insane because he was pretty sure there was two of them.

"No John, you're not going mad. There is just a very unwelcome intruder in our flat, who just happens to look like me." The Sherlock from the doorway said and John was relieved to hear he sounded exactly like _his_ Sherlock, but just to make sure he asked:

"Sherlock?"

"Obviously John, do keep up." Sherlock said and John couldn't help the small grin that crept to his lips.

"So care to elaborate?" He asked pointedly.

"There is nothing to tell." Sherlock said with finality. "Our intruder was just leaving." He continued and moved to take hold of the Sherlock-lookalike, but he was too quick.

"Scott Holmes, Dr Watson, I'm William's twin. It's a pleasure to officially meet you." The lookalike said cheerfully and shook John's hand. "It has been a pleasure to get to know you this past week."

"So that's why Sherlock was acting so strangely!" John exclaimed. "It was you all along."

"You imitated me?" Sherlock demanded angrily.

"What? We did that all the time when we were kids, remember Willie?"

"Do not call me that." Sherlock spat.

"It's your name, William."

"No it's not." Sherlock growled and looked at Scott angrily. "What do you want, Scott?"

"I wanted to see you."

"Why?"

"Why?! I thought you were dead, Will!" Scott exclaimed. "You let me believe you were dead."

"You didn't tell your own twin that you faked it?" John asked.

"I didn't tell _you_ , why would I tell _him_?" Sherlock asked.

"But he's your _twin_."

"And what does that have to do with anything?" Sherlock sneered.

"It did at one point." Scott said quietly.

"Funny I don't seem to remember. I must have deleted it." Sherlock spat. "Now leave, you're not welcome here."

"I'm not going anywhere, Willie. Not this time." Scott said with finality and somehow that made Sherlock look even angrier.

"Well, I don't want you in here. Just go and leave me and John alone!"

"So, what? So you can fake your death again without telling anyone? Or better yet, go back to _drugs_?" Scott spat.

"How do you know about that?" Sherlock demanded.

"Oh your good doctor just told me." Scott said and Sherlock turned to glare at John who rose up his hands in surrender.

"How was I supposed to know he was your twin and not you? It's not like you ever told me you had a double-ganger running around out there." John said in his defence.

Sherlock huffed before storming into his room and seemingly picking something up as a few seconds later he entered the sitting room again.

"We have a case John, are you coming?" He asked more calmly, but John could clearly see he was still angry, thankfully not to John though.

"I've got an early morning sift tomorrow." John smiled apologetically, but Sherlock just nodded in acceptance and didn't protest as he often did about the uselessness of John's job at the clinic.

"When I come back _you_ better be gone." Sherlock said with a dark look at Scott before leaving the room his long coat billowing behind him. John let out a long breath and turned to look at Scott, who was staring sadly at the now closed door, Sherlock had just exited.

"So what's the story between you two?" John asked curiously. He had never seen Sherlock act like that towards anyone, not even Mycroft, and this was his twin.

Scott sighed sadly.

"It's a long story Doctor Watson, you might want to sit down.

"When we were little William and I were like two halves of a one. We were inseparable and did everything together. We stood up for each other, against our parents, Mycroft and even the school bullies. We didn't need anyone as long as we had each other. We were quite the pranksters too and loved to cause chaos. I'm sure you can imagine what an advantage it was when we were identical." Scott said with a faint remising smile.

It was all too easy for John to imagine two little Sherlocks causing havoc and he smiled too.

"But still, while we were so alike in so many ways, we were very different too, especially as we grew up. Our interests started solidifying and while I enjoyed deductions and experimenting with William it wasn't something that was a passion to me like it was for him. Music and theatre became my passion and my dream and I had the gifts for it too. It caused a lot of arguments between us but we learned to compromise at times and do things separately too, difficult as it was. But that was only the beginning of our problems."

"What you have to understand, Dr Watson, is that William is the most intelligent person I have ever met. Sure I myself am considerably intelligent, as is Mycroft, but we apply our intelligence in very different ways and I am nowhere near the level William is and neither is Mycroft, no matter how he claims to be. I am the most gifted of us Holmes brothers in fine arts and Mycroft in politics and manipulation. But William, he can do everything he applies himself to whether it is chemistry, biology, philosophy or any other subject in the world. His brain is so amazing that he just takes everything around him in and stores it into his mind-palace where he then decides what he thinks is worth keeping and what not.

"I don't have the ability to create a mind-palace within my mind and though Mycroft has, his is much smaller than William's. I believe it has something to do with the fact that William started developing his ever since he was little, while Mycroft only learned when William taught it to him when he was ten."

"How does that work?" John asked. He had never really understood how Sherlock's mind worked and was really curious about it.

"It's difficult to explain. It is like a meditating technic, but perfected so far that you can actually control what you remember and what not. You need to have an eidetic memory or at least nearly eidetic memory to be able to create mind-palace, which is why I was never able to manage more than a 'mind-house' although William tried to teach it to me many times.

"But anyway, back to the story. Like I said, we were at the same time very alike and very different. I guess you could say that I was the more 'normal' of the two of us, for the lack of better word. We were both curious and generally happy children, but William took that curiosity to a whole new level. I can't claim it is a fact, but from what I heard from Mycroft and our parents, William never cried as a child, not even as a new-born baby. Instead, he looked around curiously at the people around him taking in everything. Mummy always called William a late bloomer, because when it was time to start standing and walking and eventually speaking, he never did what normal children did – as I did. William never babbled or made baby noises no matter how our parents or Mycroft tried, instead, according to Mycroft, he just stared at them like they were idiots for making funny faces at him." Scott said with a smile and John snorted. He could clearly imagine Sherlock doing that.

"He also never crawled like other children did. Instead he went straight to walking and running one summer morning when Redbeard stole his favourite toy. William chased him and eventually caught him, leaving our nanny staring after him in shock. Same thing happened with the speaking – William skipped babbling altogether and went straight to nearly grammatically correct sentences. According to Mycroft, his first word – or I guess I should say sentence in this case – was "I'm bored". Mummy however claims that he came running to her one day and said: "Mummy, Scott fell off a tree and sprained his wrist. I think he has a concussion too." I don't know if it's true, but I did fell of a tree when I was about two years old."

"Amazing." John said in wonder, and couldn't help but think that it would be just like Sherlock to skip mundane things like babbling and crawling and go straight to the point.

"Yeah, he was even then." Scott smiled faintly. "Only our father didn't think so."

"Your father?" John asked. He had always wondered about Sherlock's father as he had never heard him mention him.

Scott nodded. "Father is the only one in the family who doesn't have our level of intelligence. He plays the piano and clarinet well enough to make a living out of it, but he's not musically gifted like I am or William with his violin or Mycroft with piano. That is the reason why he has always found his sons slightly unnerving. He never got used to our intelligence, but still, I believe he was proud of us…" Scott trailed off for a moment. "I don't think it bothered him so much when it was only Mycroft. I don't know what he was like as a child, but in his teens at least, Mycroft always knew when to show his superior intellect in company, which I believe made it easy for Father to forget about it. That was not the case with William and me. As I have told you we were more than happy to cause havoc wherever we went and while I perhaps showed some restraint in my deductions, William never cared and always ran his mouth regardless of the situation.

"William never got along with Father. I think he knew that Father was scared of him. Deep down I think William always wanted Father to accept him like he was, but his attempts to gain Father's approval were pointless. It wasn't too long after our seventh birthday when Father started ignoring William all together. For me it was easier, since Father and I shared our passion for music and theatre and I wasn't as intelligent as William."

"Did you know that our Father was the reason William learned to play the violin?" Scott asked suddenly as he surfaced from his memories.

"No." John said quietly. He felt sad hearing about Sherlock's childhood, being ignored by his father for his intelligence. John knew what it was like to try to gain your father's approval and fail every time.

"Well he did." Scott continued. "It was his way of trying to connect with Father. He thought that if he too became interested in music Father would teach him too and take him to concerts, like he did with me, and I encouraged him. It took him two weeks to master the violin and he was so excited about it, but it backfired completely. Father was even more unnerved with William's ability to learn so fast. He brushed William off and went back to ignoring him. That was the first time I ever saw William cry." Scott said quietly, his eyes glassy.

"I overheard Mycroft telling him to forget about Father and that caring wasn't an advantage. After that he stopped trying. From that day on he did whatever he pleased. He threw himself into perfecting the art of deduction and studying chemistry, biology, psychology and criminology. He also continued with the violin and often played it in the middle of the night. He closed off from everyone but me. He no longer smiled like he used to did and his childlike innocence faded away." Scott said sadly. "We were only seven."

"William was always the stronger one of us. If I had been stronger and a brother that William deserved I would have done the same as him and cut all my ties to Father, but I didn't. I was closest to Father and he understood my passion for fine arts in a way William never did. I wasn't ready to give that up and instead just pretended to ignore the whole situation. I never mentioned William to Father or Father to William and that was how it was for the next four years.

"On our eleventh birthday Mummy and Father had the biggest fight they ever had. In result they announced that they were getting a divorce. I was distraught and didn't want them to, but William had known it was only a matter of time before it happened. Our parents had been fighting for years and William had often been the reason for the fights. Mummy never approved of how Father treated him and often was very lenient with William as compensation for not being able to get Father to treat him right. On our birthday Father told Mummy that he was leaving to the US to teach at Juilliard and Mummy told him that if he left they were over.

"Father left the house that day and lived in a hotel till the divorce papers were finalised. Before he left however, he came to see me in mine and William's room and told me "happy birthday" while handing me an envelope with a Juilliard signet. He told me he had sent an audition video to the school and that I had got accepted. He told me that if I wanted to, I could go with him and live the dream I had always wanted to." Scott said his voice filled with sadness and regret.

"Everybody always leaves." John muttered under his breath, Sherlock's words once coming back to him. "You went with him." John stated understanding dawning on him. "You chose your Father over Sherlock. That's why he never mentioned you."

Scott nodded sadly.

"It had always been my dream to get into Juilliard. It was my passion like deductions were to William. I made myself believe that William would understand in time. That I wasn't choosing Father over him, but left to make my dreams come true like he did when he studied to become the world's only consulting detective. I was stupid and naïve child, too caught up with my own dreams. I never realised he would think I abandoned him.

"I will never forget the look on his face when I hugged Father in my excitement of getting to go to Juilliard. I kept gushing about it for the whole week to our leave. I never realised how much I hurt William. I never truly realised he wasn't coming with me till the night I was leaving. In my excitement I had managed to forget the drift between Father and William. I had assumed my twin was coming with me; after all we did everything together. I didn't realise until we were at the airport and William begged me not to go.

"But I dismissed it. I told him I would write him and come visit him during the summer." Scott said. "In the end I never did. I wrote him a couple of times in the beginning before getting too caught up in my new life. I never received an answer, but brushed it off as William just being too lazy to write. I told myself I would go visit him on my next holiday, but never did until the summer we were sixteen. It had been five years since I had last seen my twin and I was excited, but when I finally arrived back home he was nowhere to be found.

"Teary-eyed Mummy told me William had run away weeks before and was nowhere to be found. He was missing for two months before Mycroft managed locate him and bring him home – two days before I had to go back to New York.

"William had changed. He was more closed off than ever and snapped at everyone and everything. He ignored me the whole two days I had left of my vacation and rebuffed every attempt I made to reconcile with him. I haven't seen him since. He refused any contact I tried and eventually I gave up. Years went by and the next I hear from my twin is that he has killed himself. Even that I had to read from the newspaper. No-one informed me of his funeral either.

"I understand why he is angry with me, Dr Watson, and he has every right to be, but still I hope that he will give me another chance and allow me to be at least some part of his life. I have never felt so much pain in my life than I did when I learned of his death. It felt like my soul had been ripped in part and I now understand how he must have felt when I abandoned him. That is something I never want to feel again."

"So what do you want from me?" John asked not giving anything away.

"I had hoped that you could try and talk to him to give me a chance." Scott said. "He respects your opinion and even listens to you more than most."

"I will think about it." John finally said and stood up. "First thing you should try though, is to call him Sherlock."

Scott nodded in understanding.

"Thank you." He said and shook John's hand. "Please tell Will- Sherlock that I'm sorry."

John nodded and the Sherlock-lookalike left the flat.

John slumped back to his chair his mind whirling at the new information. What a mess it was, He thought. And he genuinely, most sincerely hoped that there wasn't another Holmes he was not aware of, showing up – ever.

They didn't have a sister, right?

* * *

 **A/N: Let's all hope that so poor John doesn't have to deal with another Holmes! Or what do you think? Please review and tell me what you think.**

 **And if you like reading my fics I have just posted the first chapter of The Circle of Time, which is a TwiPotter x-over and When the History Repeats Itself has been updated too! So if you're interested go check those out too :)**

 **Thanks,**

 **\- Dalnim**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thanks for reviews! Sorry it took me so long to post this. Originally most of this chapter was supposed to be a sequel for this story, but then it went off to a different direction than I intented so I decided to just continue it here. There will probably be one more chapter before the story is finished. I hope you like it!**

 **Warnings: There is a strong reference to abuse in this chapter**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock**

* * *

Sherlock didn't come back till that night around 3am and John stayed up to wait for him. Without a word he made them tea and they sat in silence for a long moment till Sherlock grew frustrated.

"Well? Aren't you going to ask?" He spat folding his arms. "I can see you want to."

"I don't need to know, Sherlock." John said calmly. "Your brother told me quite enough. I just want you to know that if _you_ want to talk about it, I'm here."

Sherlock huffed.

"You want me to tell you about my _father_ who hated and feared me through my whole life or my twin brother, who left with him? What are you now, John, my therapist?"

"No, Sherlock. I'm your friend. And friends listen to each other's worries if needed." John said patiently. "I'm not telling you to talk about it. Just that I'm here if you want to."

"What my _brother_ didn't convince you to talk me into giving them another chance?"

"I didn't make any promises." John said. "I told him I would think about it. And only about giving _him_ a chance. Your father can rot in hell for all I care. If I'm ever so unfortunate to meet him I will punch him for you." He said heatedly.

"As for your brother I have only heard his side of the story and his reasoning behind his actions and I imagine yours is much different. Regardless, I would never try to force you into anything you didn't want to do. I know first-hand that some relationships just can't be repaired – just look at me and Harry – but I know that we at least tried, many times even. Harry and I, though, we were never close, I imagine you and Scott were.

"What I mean to say is that you make your own decisions Sherlock. Just remember that whatever happened between you and your twin brother, happened over two decades ago. Intelligent or not you were both still just kids and kids make stupid decisions all the time." John stood up yawning. "I'll go to bed now. Goodnight Sherlock. See you in the morning." He said leaving Sherlock alone with his thoughts.

* * *

For the next two weeks there was no mention of Scott in the household of 221B Baker Street. John decided that he had said his piece and it would be up to Sherlock to bring him up next and one morning two weeks later he did.

"John." Sherlock said coming out of his mind palace.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Scott will be coming to tea this evening. You should go get some more milk." He said taking hold of his violin and playing quietly.

John looked up in surprise but just nodded in acceptance. "I will head to the Tesco in a minute." He said. "Do you want me out of the flat? I could text Greg to meet me in the pub."

"No. You can stay." Sherlock said and John nodded a small smile gracing his lips as he exited the apartment – in Sherlock that was as good as "no, I want you there with me"."

* * *

An hour later found John back in Baker Street. Sherlock had gotten bored of the violin and was doing some kind of experiment on human eyeballs to which John just rolled his eyes and put his shopping away. Just as he got the job done and was going to prepare some tea Mrs. Hudson burst through the door.

"Woohoo! Boys, you have a client!" She exclaimed. "Just go right in, Sir." She said before leaving.

John turned to the door and saw an old grey-haired man limping in a cane in his hand.

"Hello." He said shaking the man's hand. "I'm Dr John Watson and this is my partner Sherlock Holmes." He turned to Sherlock who was still focused on his experiment.

"Sherlock." John hissed.

"Busy John."

"Sherlock we have a case."

Sherlock barely gave a glance at the man as he answered:

"He wants to find a missing family member, whom he hasn't seen in two decades all because he's dying and feeling guilty. Boring!" He declared.

"Sherlock!" John hissed. "I'm sorry about him…" John started apologizing but the man waved him off his eyes never leaving Sherlock.

"No, he's right. I am looking for my son." The man said his voice filled with sadness and regret. "I have greatly wronged him by abandoning him and taking something he held dear from him when he was young and would like to have a chance to apologize…" He continued only to be interrupted by a sharp voice.

"Get out!" Sherlock spat startling John who gaped at him. Sherlock looked more thunderous than John had ever seen him, but what was more striking was the pain his eyes held.

"Willi..."

"No! You have _no right_ to call me that! You have _no right_ to be in this flat! Now GET OUT!" Sherlock yelled before grapping his coat and leaving the flat himself.

The door slammed and John, who by now had realised what just happened and who the old man was, cursed under his breath looking around for his phone. Finding it on the kitchen table he grasped it and quickly dialled the number he had only used a few times. It took only one try and the phone was answered with the familiar drawl.

"Dr Watson, to what do I own this pleasure."

"Do you have eyes on Sherlock?" John asked ignoring the pleasantries.

"As you may recall I promised my dear brother to leave you alone after…"

"Find him Mycroft!" John interrupted him sharply.

"What has happened?" Mycroft asked seriously, seeming to realise it was no time for games.

"Your father happened." John said not caring that the old man could clearly hear him.

There was a short silence on the other end.

"I see. And you believe Sherlock might…" Mycroft trailed off as both he and John knew what was going on in each other's heads.

"I bloody well hope not, but I'm not willing to risk it." John sighed. "Just find him and make sure he's okay."

"I will." Mycroft said and paused. "Try not to punch him too badly, Doctor."

And the call was cut off.

"No promises." John muttered as he took the phone off his ear and walked back to the living room to face his flatmates father, Siger Harlington.

"I want to know why." John said. "How could you just ignore your own son and take his twin, his other half away from him?" John had no will to deal with Sherlock's father any longer than necessary after all he had heard about him, but he needed to know why. He couldn't fathom why a father would treat his own son in such a way. It was something he had never found out regarding his own father, but maybe Sherlock's could shed some light on the matter.

"Because I was afraid of him." Siger said simply like it explained everything. "He was too intelligent; it was only a matter of time till his intelligence brought him to madness. I had seen it before… with my own brother. Malcom was just like William, so intelligent ever since he was a small child. He was as curious about everything and experimented on anything and everything. He captured living animals and cut them open just to see how their bodies worked and how long it would take till their organs stopped moving. Our parents always said he was harmless and didn't believe me when I told them otherwise." Siger said in a haunted voice.

"He was seventeen when he went too far. I came home for a visit and found he had turned our kitchen to a laboratory and in the middle of our kitchen table was our younger brother Desmond, tied down with robes. He wasn't moving and I feared for the worst, but not even my worst fears could prepare me for what I saw. Malcom had tied our little brother to the table and cut off his eyelids to see if he could still sleep without them. I was later told that Desmond's heart had given out under the pain. He was only thirteen."

"You need to understand, Dr Watson that in my head William would become just like Malcom. The older William grew the more intelligent he became and the more he reminded me of Malcom. Scott and William had always been close just like Desmond and Malcom had, even more so, and Scott always went along with whatever experiment William came up with. In my mind I would someday arrive home to find William doing the same to Scott as Malcom had done to Desmond.

"And so I decided that I needed to get Scott way from him. Mycroft was already out of the house and away from William, but Scott was right there spending every minute of the day with him. I did what I thought was best in that situation and moved away from the country taking Scott with me." Siger said quietly.

"So what changed?" John asked. "Why now? Sherlock is still intelligent, I'm sure even more so than when he was an eleven-year-old boy."

"The first time I heard of him in over two decades was when I received a copy of a newspaper. On the front pages it told of a suicide of a fake consulting detective called Sherlock Holmes. I recognized him in two seconds even though I hadn't seen Scott either in many years." Siger said sadness in his voice.

"It was a sobering moment… to hear he was dead. That he – my son – had killed himself." Siger said his eyes vacant. "I felt… numb. I had ignored him for more than half his life, but still… he was my _son_. No matter how I feared him, or how badly I treated him I never wanted him dead. I realised in that moment that regardless of my fear of him I still loved him as much as I did my other children; but I had let my fear of my own brother consume my thoughts and make me abandon my own child.

"I didn't even know him. My own son." Siger said mournfully. "The last memory I had of him was his eleven-year-old figure standing in the airport broken, as I took his twin brother from him. I thought I was saving Scott by taking him away from William, back then. So that he wouldn't end up like Desmond had." He closed his eyes.

"It is the old age, Dr Watson." He suddenly looked at John with haunted eyes. "You start to look back on your life to see what kind of life you have lived and what you have accomplished… I was horrified of what I found." Siger started laughing humourlessly. "I took me over twenty years to realise how horrible of a father I had been."

"I started researching everything I could find of William. I learned of his name change and read all about the episode with this Moriarty character and how the press made William appear to have been a fake. I was enraged how they dared to slander my son like that – I knew better than anyone that there was no way William was fake, after all his intelligence was the very thing that had caused my fear from the very moment he was born.

"I found your blog about your cases with William and was amazed by the way you described him. You didn't see him as a threat and a curse like I did, you saw him as what he always had been; a brilliant and amazing man. And I was proud of him. For the very first time in my life the fear disappeared and was replaced how proud I felt of my son. He had done so many good things in life, helped so many people.

"I want to thank you Dr Watson." Siger looked straight at John. "I want to thank you for being there for him. For accepting him for what he is and for understanding him in a way I was never able to." Siger stood up with the help of his cane and walked to the door before stopping.

"Tell William that… that I don't blame him… for hating me. And that… I'm sorry."

And then he was gone.

John watched the old man go his brain mulling over the new information he had received of his flatmate but now wasn't the time to concentrate on that, he had a friend to find.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! Please review and tell me what you think.**

 **Like I said one more chapter and then we'll be done. Don't know when I'll have time to write it but let's hope it will be soon.**

 **\- Dalnim**


End file.
